


Turn Up That Spotlight

by redandglenda



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, consensual voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandglenda/pseuds/redandglenda
Summary: Chris Evans is a struggling actor in New York City who strips to make rent. He generally likes his job, but he has to upgrade that to 'loves his job' when actual celebrity and walking wet dream Chris Pratt shows up and asks for a private dance.





	Turn Up That Spotlight

With one last spin around the stripper pole, Chris Evans finished his last routine for the night. He walked back upstage, making sure to sway his hips as he went. He would be out working the floor as soon as he cleaned up a bit and stashed his tips in his locker, so he wanted to leave a lasting impression of his ass to remind the people why they should pay for a private dance with him.

He’d been dressed as a firefighter for this routine and his work outfit and helmet were strewn across the stage, along with the dollar bills that hadn’t made it into his g-string. The firefighter outfit was always a hit with the bachelorette parties, and he’d made a good amount of money off of the party to the left of the stage.

Back in the dressing room he took a quick shower to wash off the sweat he always got working the pole. People thought pole dancing was easy, but he had earned every one of his bulging muscles holding himself up and contorting himself around the pole for the last two years.

Chris gave his ass a good scrub as he ran over lines for an audition he was going on the next day in his head. The thongs he wore on stage itched something fierce so it was always a relief to get them off. He was trying out for a small part in an off-Broadway play, but he didn’t hold out much hope. After two years of living in New York City, he had only managed to secure a few small roles that hadn’t ever led to anything bigger, so he relied on stripping to pay his rent.

‘Oh well, the show must go on,’ Chris thought wryly as he towelled off and pulled a pair of bright pink booty shorts on.

Thongs were, thankfully, only required for the dance routines, and when he worked the floor he was allowed to wear shorts instead. Chris had found he actually got a similar amount of tips in the shorts, and he could actually fit more bills in them, so that’s what he stuck with. His plan was to start working the floor and trying to drum up tips from the bachelorette party, so after a quick fix of his hair and a subtle application of body glitter, he headed out to the left of the stage.

As soon as he exited the back area, however, he was distracted. Someone who looked a hell of a lot like Chris Pratt, star of Guardians of the Galaxy and of many of Chris’s jerkoff fantasies, was sitting in one of the darker corners to the back of the strip club. He had a tumbler in one hand which he was occasionally sipping from, and his gaze was focused on the stage where Chris’s colleague Anthony was performing.

Probably Chris Pratt was alone, and had his phone out on the table. If Chris saw someone with a phone out he usually steered clear to avoid anyone trying to sneak pictures of the dancers, but people alone usually tipped the highest and could be convinced to buy private (expensive) dances in one of the back rooms. Decisions, decisions.

As he contemplated going over, Chris worked his way to the bar at the back of the club. He caught the eyes of James, the bartender, and flicked his eyes over to Probably Pratt. James nodded and watched Probably Pratt as Chris walked by his table.

“Yeah, he was definitely checking you out,” James said as soon as Chris was at the bar.

Chris grinned and said, “Awesome. Get me one of what he’s having and I’ll take it over to him.”

“Coming right up,” James said, and he whipped out a glass and poured some top shelf whisky in.

“Expensive taste,” Chris mused. This lent more credence to his theory that Probably Pratt was Actually Pratt, but honestly what would Actually Pratt be doing in a dump like this?

Either way, it was his job to grease the customers and try to talk them into paying more for private dances, so he took the glass and walked over, approaching the table from behind. He put a hand on the back of Probably Pratt’s chair and leaned over to place the glass on the table, making sure to brush his pecs on Probably Pratt’s shoulder.

“You looked like you needed a refill,” Chris said lowly, in Probably Pratt’s ear.

“That I did,” the man said with a chuckle. He twisted his head to look up at Chris and Chris had to hold back a gasp. It  _ was _ Chris Pratt.

Chris’s usual next line of “you look like you need something else too” died on his lips, as he became suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of giving Pratt a lap dance. Yes, the tips would probably be amazing, but Chris had actually met Pratt’s wife, Anna Faris, once when she came backstage after a play he had been in. She had come to congratulate her friend, Allison Janney, on doing an amazing job as the lead in the play, but she had stuck around and talked to all the actors who did just minor roles, like Chris. She was gorgeous as fuck, and super funny and charming. 

Chris leaned away from Pratt and stood up. He’d be sad to miss the opportunity to grind against Pratt’s ridiculously toned abs and quads, but it just didn’t feel right.

He turned to walk away but stopped at the feeling of Pratt’s hand around his wrist.

“Hey, where are you going?” Pratt asked.

Chris turned back to him and gave his wrist a tiny shake to see what Pratt would do. If he was going to be rough and demanding with Chris, he had no problem calling the bouncers over. Big as he was, Chris tried to avoid getting into it with customers if he could.

Pratt immediately let go of Chris though, and Chris relaxed.

“You have no idea how much I would love to give you a lap dance, man,” Chris said. “But I don’t like to mess around with people’s marriages.”

Pratt blinked up at him, his handsome brow furrowing a bit in confusion. “You know more than half of the people here are probably married, right?”

Chris raised his eyebrows in what Anthony called his Gaze of Judgment and said, “I know, but I haven’t met any of their spouses, so I can pretend.”

“You’ve met Anna?” Pratt asked excitedly. Chris had expected Pratt to look ashamed at the reminder of his cheating, or chagrined, or something. But instead Pratt was beaming up at Chris, adorable crinkles around his sparkling eyes. “She didn’t say she knew any strippers!”

Chris took a small step back, feeling off-footed at Pratt’s reaction. This wasn’t how he saw this interaction going at all.

Pratt obviously sensed his unease because he put his hands up like Chris was frightened puppy and said, “Sorry, sorry. Do you prefer the term exotic dancer?” His face projected innocence and reassurance, but his dancing eyes gave away his humour.

Chris laughed and relaxed again. “Nah, I prefer ‘striptease artiste’,” he said.

“Ooh, an  _ artiste _ ,” Pratt said, smiling. “Well, your body looks like it was sculpted by a master artist, so I’ll give you that.”

Working in a strip club got Chris used to all sorts of compliments, from the weird and disturbing to the shy and kind, and rarely reacted to them anymore, but Pratt’s boyish charm and chiseled features did something to Chris, and he felt the tips of his ears heating up.

Pratt reached out and carefully placed a hand on Chris’s hip. It rested there, barely touching, as Pratt waited for Chris’s reaction.

Chris leaned into the touch and stepped forward so he was almost between Pratt’s spread knees.

Pratt smiled up at him and asked, “So there’s no chance of a lap dance from a striptease  _ artiste _ , then?”

Oh, how Chris wanted to say yes. Pratt’s thumb was brushing up and down against the ridge of his abs and he wanted to drown in Pratt’s warm eyes, but “Anna,” he said.

“Anna’s okay with it,” Pratt said. He brought his other hand up to frame Chris’s hips.

At Chris’s skeptical look, Pratt laughed and said, “Honest! It’s not some line.” He used his grip on Chris’s hips to gently pull him forward and asked, “Will you at least sit here a moment so I can get my phone and show you proof?”

Chris let himself be tugged into sitting on Pratt’s lap, legs straddling Pratt’s muscular thighs. He made sure to settle closer to Pratt’s knees than his crotch, though. Chris Evans didn’t give freebies, not even if you were a crazily attractive celebrity he’d had a crush on since Pratt’s ‘Everwood’ days.

Once Chris was settled, Pratt dropped one hand to rest on Chris’s upper thigh and used his other hand to grab his phone from the table. He used this thumbprint to unlock the screen and opened up WhatsApp before handing the phone to Chris.

Chris took it and saw that it was open to a conversation with ‘Anna <3’. He scrolled up through the conversation and saw that an hour ago Pratt had told Anna he was going to a male strip club and might get a dance, and her response was ‘fun! If he’s into it, send a pic! Jack’ll be at his playgroup so I could use the distraction’.

Chris was taken aback. “Really? You guys are open?”

Pratt took his phone back and locked it before setting it down again. “Kinda,” he shrugged. “We have rules. We always have to tell the other before anything happens, and stuff is only allowed to happen when one of us is out of state doing work and when the person we’ll be with is the same gender as us. I’m here in New York for a premier and press shit, and I’ve let her know, and she’s okay with it, so we’re good.”

“I hadn’t realised people could be so civilized,” Chris said. “My ex and I tried something like that when she got a job in LA, but the distance and distrust just didn’t really work.”

“All about communication,” Pratt said, nodding sagely. He ruined the picture by winking though. “Speaking of communication, how would your ass like to communicate with my lap?”

Chris barked out a loud laugh. Pratt was just as ridiculous as he appeared in interviews. “My ass would like that very much,” he said, smiling.

He listed the prices for dances, and Pratt chose the option of a strip show in a private room, so Chris led Pratt to the back by the hand. They stopped to settle payment for the dance on the way.

The back rooms were pretty cheesy, all low lights and crushed velvet and sultry music, but the couches in them were comfortable for his knees when he straddled clients, which was a plus.

Chris gently pushed Pratt to sit down on one of the couches and then moved back into the center of the small room. He began to sway his hips back and forth, while slowly dragging his hands up his torso. Chris liked this kind of dance more than the routines he did up on stage. Although there was a freedom in being further away from the crowd, there was a greater physicality expected than these more intimate dances where he didn’t have to hoist himself up and around a poll and sexily pull off stupid outfits.

Here, Chris could just move to the beat, and keep eye contact while he touched himself all over. The actual rule was ‘no touching, no full nudity’, but the accepted rule was, whatever the dancer wanted to happen in the back room could happen, as long as it happened in the amount of time the client had paid for. Pratt had paid for 20 minutes, which was double the usual amount of time people usually bought in this club. It wasn’t the nicest club, and generally attracted a more seedy and cheap clientele. Probably why Pratt chose it; no one would expect to see him here.

Chris had worked his arms up his body and they were now over his head. He rolled his wrists around, then his arms, then his chest, and then his hips, making the motions one continuous and sinuous movement of his body. He used the swivel of his hips to rotate his body around so his back was to Pratt.

Pratt let out a low groan, and Chris looked over his shoulder to see him. Pratt had one hand gripping his thigh and the other was pressed to his groin, not moving.

Chris grinned. “You like that?” he asked innocently. He dropped down to a very low squat before standing up, pushing his ass out toward Pratt and keeping his upper body low. He did a few more slut drops, taking a small step back toward Pratt after each one.

“Fuck,” Pratt said. “Your ass is incredible.”

“Thanks,” Chris said, “I work out.”

Pratt chuckled, “It shows, man, damn. Do you mind if I take a picture for Anna?”

Chris had thought about that question since he saw Anna’s text, and decided that he’d be okay with it. If Anna Fucking Faris, gorgeous goddess that she was wanted to see him turning her husband on, that was a-okay in his book.

“No, go ahead,” he said as he twisted back around to face Pratt to show that he was really fine with it. “Do a video if you want.”

“Yes,” Pratt said, drawing out the word as he picked up his phone and unlocked it. “Do that drop thing again, please?”

Chris smiled at the politeness. Manners during a lap dance were mostly missing. People were generally okay at remembering to not grab if Chris said not to, but they always tried some form of dirty talking and demanding things. It was annoying to say the least. But Pratt was sweet. He could have his slut drop.

After Chris rolled his way up from the floor again, he turned back to Pratt and swayed his hips as he took the last couple of steps over to him.

Pratt was looking at his phone, tapping his thumb anxiously against the side of the case as he waited for the video to load and send, but he moved his arm out of the way to clear his lap for Chris.

As soon as Pratt’s attention was back on him, Chris asked, “So, you’re an ass man?” He punctuated the question with a roll of his hips against Pratt’s thighs.

Pratt grinned up at him and said, “Yup. I mean, pussies are. They’re amazing, right? Pussies are incredible. But sometimes you just need to fuck an ass, y’know?”

“An – ” Chris cut himself off and stilled his hips. “Holy shit, sorry, man, I was just about to ask you what your wife likes and that’s not on.”

Pratt slid his hands up Chris’s thighs and around to his ass. He took one globe in each hand and dragged him further into his lap to get Chris moving again.

“You’re fine, don’t worry,” Pratt said with a grin.

Chris let out a relieved sigh. He didn’t want to lose money with a disgruntled customer, or, actually, it was more that he didn’t want to lose time with Pratt. He kept up a steady grind against Pratt, expecting the subject to be dropped, but Pratt surprised him.

“She’ll let me do it, but she doesn’t really like it, so I don’t push her. Another reason this arrangement works for us,” he said. His phone let out a soft ping just then and he picked it up with a broad smile. He turned the phone to Chris and let him see Anna’s response to the video, ‘DAT ASS WOW nice one babe’.

Chris had never given a lap dance with so much talking before, let alone a dance where the client’s wife was complimenting his ass. “Tell her thanks,” he said and hoped that it was an okay response.

Chris stood up from Pratt’s lap, intending to sit back on his lap, facing away from Pratt, when Pratt handed the phone to him and said, “Can you do it? I have a feeling your ass is going to be way too distracting in a minute.”

Chris chuckled and took the phone. “Sure.”

He typed out, ‘This the guy attached to the ass in the video, saying thanks!’, as he sat back in Pratt’s lap, balancing just above Pratt’s thighs. This move was hell on his quads and glutes, but guys loved it.

Sure enough Pratt made a low noise, and traced his hands up Chris’s sides to pet Chris’s abs.

On a whim, Chris tapped the camera icon in the whatsapp message and raised the phone above his head. He recorded a couple second video of Pratt groaning over Chris’s ass, with Chris’s face in the bottom corner and sent it to Anna.

“Can you sit back on me more, please?” Pratt asked. “Your goddamn ass, I swear.”

Chris shook aforementioned ass side to side just to tease Pratt before he let more of his weight settle in his lap. Chris was a big guy, and he was used to doing this to smaller men, or more commonly, much smaller women, but Pratt had an inch on him in height and was just as broad, so he could probably take it.

Pratt let out a quiet, “Yeah,” as Chris’s ass settled firmly on his lap. He tucked his left arm around Chris’s waist and drew him closer.

With the firm hold, Chris couldn’t do much actual dancing, so he just rocked up and down between Pratt’s strong arm and Pratt’s hard cock. God, it felt good, and Chris had never gotten aroused during a dance before because he was a professional, but Chris goddamn Pratt’s hard-on was pressing up into Chris’s crack and he couldn’t help but find that the hottest thing in the world.

Chris let out a breathy moan as he felt himself stiffen in his shorts. He lost the rhythm of the song that was being piped through the speakers in the room and was now just moving his hips in time with Pratt’s small thrusts up against him.

Pratt’s phone pinged a couple of times in Chris’s hand. Chris had actually forgotten he was holding it in the excitement of the new position. It had locked itself in the last couple of minutes but Chris could see it was a message from Anna. He held it over his shoulder to Pratt and requested, “Fingerprint.”

Pratt pressed his right thumb to the phone lock and let Chris know he was done by running that hand down and over Chris’s ribs.

Chris read the messages out loud, “You both look so hot, boys. Show me more?” His voice got squeaky on the last word as Pratt’s questing right hand had made its way to his cock. Pratt gave it a firm squeeze before stopping, as if in question.

“Yes,” Chris answered breathily, “More.”

Pratt rested his forehead between Chris’s shoulder blades and his hair tickled slightly. The moment of distraction was enough for Pratt’s hand to slip under the waistband of Chris’s shorts to grip Chris’s cock.

“Please,” Chris moaned.

“I’ve got you,” Pratt’s low voice assured him, and he started pulling at Chris’s cock.

Chris saw the phone’s screen going dim out of the corner of his eye and he quickly tapped it so it wouldn’t lock again. He held the phone up around his sternum and took a quick pick. Chris hadn’t even realised he started sweating but his abs gleaned in the light of the picture and the bulge of Pratt’s hand in Chris’s shorts looked huge.

He sent it to Anna quickly and then reached down to push his shorts down just enough to give Pratt room to work.

“Spread your legs more for me,” Pratt said as he kissed along the ridges of Chris’s shoulder muscles.

Chris spread his legs more but couldn’t hold himself up as well. “Can I lean back?” he asked Pratt. He really didn’t want to squish Pratt, but he hadn’t complained so far about his weight, or about the fact that Chris was barely grinding against him anymore, just letting Pratt do all the work.

“Yeah, babe,” Pratt said. He lifted his head from where he had it leaned against Chris’s back and Chris shifted back into the space, leaning firmly against Pratt’s chest.

The phone pinged again. “Anna wants you to get my cock out,” Chris said. Ridiculously, he felt on the verge of giggles. He turned his head and buried his nose in Pratt’s hair where it was curling a bit around his ears.

“You going to show the woman we’re listening to her?” Pratt asked.

Chris could feel his low voice rumble through his back and he quickly raised the phone to take another picture. He rested the phone on his chest, just above his pecs and angled down to show his pecs, abs, and cock where it leaked in Pratt’s fist.

Pratt used the slick from his cock head to lube his hand even more so the gliding tugs of his hand felt even better.

Chris thrust up into his fist and Pratt obligingly tightened his fist on each thrust. Chris gasped and his voice wavered as he read out Anna’s next message, “Good boys, she says.”

Chris hummed deep in his throat, and sounded pleased at the praise. “Will you kiss me, baby?” he asked.

And Chris, who had never once kissed a client, said “Yes” before he even had to think about it. He leaned up from Chris’s chest and pushed himself up out of his lap. He immediately missed Pratt’s hand around his cock, but he was on a mission. He pushed his shorts down the rest of the way and kicked them off before straddling Pratt’s lap to face him.

Pratt reached up to gently guide Chris’s lips to his own. Chris kept his eyes open for just a moment to take a quick picture of the kiss for Anna before closing them and letting himself enjoy Pratt’s lips.

Their lips brushed wetly across each other as they took turns sucking gently on each other’s lower lips. Chris’s lips started buzzing with the friction and he had to have more so he nudged Pratt’s lips open further with his lips and quickly slid his tongue in between.

Pratt moaned and sucked hard on Chris’s tongue before letting it go and flicking his own tongue up to battle Chris’s. At the same time, Pratt let one of his hands slide down Chris’s back.

Chris drew his head back and gasped sharply when he felt one of Pratt’s broad fingers press against his hole.

Pratt look up at him, brow creased in concern and asked, “That okay, honey?”

If Chris had more brain cells left operating he might have laughed at all the endearments, but he didn’t, so he just nodded sharply and glanced at the phone in his hand, which had pinged once more.

‘he fingering you yet?’ Anna’s text asked.

Chris let out a shaky laugh and said to Pratt, “Your wife knows you well.”

“She does,” Pratt said with a smile. His finger had disappeared while Chris was concentrated on the phone and it returned, now wet with spit, to work it’s way into Chris. “You going to get my cock out, babe?”

Chris typed back an emphatic ‘YES’ to Anna before tossing the phone down next to him. He needed two hands to get Pratt’s belt buckle open and his fly down. Chris scooted back a bit in Pratt’s lap so that he’d have room to free Pratt’s cock. The move pushed him firmly into Pratt’s hand and Pratt’s finger slid all the way home.

Chris’s eyes fluttered closed at feeling, and he rocked his hips back and growled, “More.”

He grasped Pratt’s thick cock and pressed it against his own. It was hot and, like Chris’s, leaking from the tip. Chris used his thumb to spread the wetness around and soon his hand was a nice warm and wet hole for the both of them to thrust up into.

On one downward thrust, Pratt eased another finger into Chris. His fingers were still sticky from jerking Chris off before, but it was nowhere near slick enough to be fully comfortable. Chris forced himself to relax enough for Pratt’s fingers to fully press inside him and relished the burn. He moaned loudly and his hand around their cocks tightened.

“That good, honey?” Pratt asked.

When Chris said, “Yeah, but no more,” Pratt nodded and leaned up to kiss Chris sweetly. He peppered brief kisses on Chris’s lips, nipping lightly every so often and flicking his tongue out for little kitten licks just barely breaching Chris’s lips. It was such a contrast between the thick fingers firmly scissoring inside Chris’s ass that Chris got distracted and stopped massaging their cocks.

The phone’s ping brought him back, though he couldn’t have said how long he’d been drifting on the feeling, and he had to draw back from Pratt’s mouth to reach down and get the phone again. He didn’t want to pick the phone up with his wet hand, so he awkwardly reached his left hand over stiff cocks to grab it from the couch by Pratt’s left hip.

The phone was locked and Chris was just contemplating the ridiculousness of trying to maneuver the phone back so that he could get Pratt’s thumbprint without Pratt having to pull his fingers out of Chris, when Pratt huffed out a laugh and took the phone from Chris.

“I do have two thumbs,” Pratt said, grinning, and he unlocked the phone with his left thumb.

“Who has two thumbs and is getting the best lap dance of their life?” Chris joked.

“This guy,” Pratt said, drawling the words in an imitation of a Southern dudebro.

Pratt handed the phone to Chris and Chris reached his arm way out to try to get all of them in the shot. He couldn’t quite manage it, so tapped the video option instead. He started the video with the camera focused on their cocks, lazily thrusting upward into Chris’s hand, then panned up to their heaving chests, then further up to catch Chris leaning in and licking his way deeply into Pratt’s mouth. As they kissed, Chris raised the phone above his head to hopefully catch Pratt’s fingers working in and out of Chris’s ass before he stopped recording.

He drew back from Pratt’s mouth, and a bit of spit connected them for a second as he leaned away. Pratt laughed and darted in for another quick kiss.

Just as Chris sent the video, Pratt’s fingers crooked hard inside him and brushed Chris’s prostate. Chris yelped as sparks of pleasure radiated up his spine and he dropped the phone. He rested his forehead against Pratt’s and started rocking his hips in earnest now, desperately trying to get more of that incredible pressure right where he wanted it.

He started to steadily grip and rub their cocks firmly in tempo with Pratt’s fingers. It took only another minute before he began to spill over his hand and Pratt’s cock, his hole clenching tightly around Pratt’s fingers as he came.

Pratt groaned and said, “Yeah, babe, that’s it.”

Pratt drew his fingers out of Chris when he finished coming, and Chris shifted back along Pratt’s lap, letting their cocks slide of his wet grip. He flopped almost bonelessly onto the floor between Pratt’s thighs, still feeling shaky in the aftermath. He reached up and took Pratt’s cock into both of this hands now, one firmly squeezing the base while the other massaged the head and teased the slit.

Pratt said, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath and his thighs quivered under Chris’s forearms as he fought to stay still. He picked up his phone and aimed it at Chris. Now that Chris wasn’t on the edge of coming, he had the wherewithal to smirk seductively up at the camera and tighten his arms against his pecs to make them bulge more.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Pratt said, voice tight.

Christ felt Pratt’s balls tighten up and knew Pratt was about to come. He leaned in, closed his eyes, and milked Pratt through his orgasm as he shook and came across Chris’s face.

“Oh god, oh god, don’t move, don’t move,” Pratt said in a strained voice.

Chris assumed he was taking a picture, so remained posed for a moment before fluttering his eyes open to coyly look at Pratt through his lashes.

“Oh god,” Pratt said again, weakly. He tapped at the phone a few times then put it down and used both hands to draw Chris up into a kiss.

Chris knelt between his legs kissing Pratt enthusiastically back, enjoying the smell of their combined sweat and come in the air. The kiss slowed eventually and Pratt laughed a bit as he combed his fingers through his hair.

“Well, I sure wasn’t expecting  _ that _ ,” Pratt said.

Chris smiled and settled back onto his heels. “Yeah, that’s not something that’s usually done here,” he agreed.

Pratt smiled down at him and said fondly, “You’re such a mess, c’mere.”

Chris leaned forward and Pratt produced a tissue from his pocket to wipe at Chris’s face.

“Oh my god, you’re such a dad,” Chris laughed.

“You never know when you might need to wipe something!” Pratt exclaimed.

Chris’s laugh trailed off into giggles as Pratt’s expression fell from his mock outrage into a more tender smile.

Pratt rubbed at Chris’s face once more then proclaimed him, “Finished.” He pressed a light kiss to Chris’s upturned mouth before he leaned back to put his cock away.

Chris leaned back then too. He pushed himself up onto his feet and pulled his discarded shorts back on.

“This was fun,” Chris said. He leaned against the door frame, attempting to look nonchalant.

“You say that to all your johns?” Pratt smirked as he stood up.

“No,” Chris said. It came out more harshly than he meant it to, but he didn’t want Pratt thinking he did this with just anyone. He decided not to analyze that in too much depth.

“Relax, honey, I’m joking,” Pratt said with a small smile. He crossed the room in a few strides to stand in front of Chris. “It  _ was _ fun.”

Chris was just contemplating if it would be appropriate to lean in for a kiss now that the business was done when Pratt’s phone pinged.

Pratt drew it out of his pocket and unlocked it. His eyebrows shot up and a flush rose in his cheeks. He read the caption aloud, “Thanks for the videos, boys. You did good.” Then he turned the phone toward Chris so that he could see the picture she had sent.

Anna Goddamn Gorgeous Faris was sprawled on a bed, tits out, flushed, covered in a light sheen of sweat, with the most beautiful come face Chris had ever seen.

“Holy fucking shit,” Chris said hoarsely. He had just popped a semi and what even was this whole day?

“Yeah,” Pratt agreed roughly. He put the phone back in his pocket and smiled at Chris. “Thanks for this, really. You were outstanding,” he said.

“Honestly, my absolute pleasure,” Chris said, smiling back. “Come back anytime.”

Pratt’s eyes sparkled and he asked with a grin, “And who should I ask for?”

“Oh my god, I didn’t even tell you my name?” Chris wondered aloud. Geez, what a meatball. He reached up and scrubbed at his face in embarrassment. “It’s Chris.”

“Just to let you know that sounds super made up, since it’s my name,” Pratt said with one eyebrow raised.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Chris Evans,” he said, and stuck his hand out to shake Pratt’s.

Pratt laughed and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Chris Evans. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Chris said. He was annoyed to feel himself blushing again. What was it with this man that completed negated the training his years of working in a strip club had provided?

Chris opened the door and let Pratt walk out in front of him.

Pratt walked toward the exit of the club, and Chris turned to an employee’s only door to go backstage to clean up before going out to finish his shift.

It seemed wrong, somehow, that he had to go out and keep working after this, but his bills wouldn’t pay themselves, so the show must go on.

He showered quickly and pulled on another pair of tiny shorts before brushing his teeth and fixing his hair. He was just about to walk out of the changing room when James came in with something in his hand.

“Guy you just finished with left this for you,” James said. He thrust his hand out and Chris found a $100 bill in his hand.

“Nice,” Chris said.

James nodded and left.

Chris turned and walked over to his locker to stash it with the rest of his tips for the night, and felt . . . disappointed. Somehow the fact that Pratt had paid for the dance through the credit card system at the bar made it seem that money hadn’t changed hands for what happened between them in the private room. It made it seem like it was possible that they were maybe just two people (and Anna Hotass Faris) who shared an amazing time together.

Chris shook his head to himself. He wasn’t a naive idiot. He knew what he was, and he knew that clients didn’t actually fall for strippers. The tip was good, really. He needed the money badly because he probably wasn’t going to get the part tomorrow, so this was fine.

Resolved to feel nothing and get on with his night, he folded the bill in half to fit it in with his other tips and saw a smudge of black on the back of the bill that shouldn’t be there. He brought the bill closer to his face, and smiled at what he saw.

It was a phone number.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a sequel planned where Anna and Chris Pratt come to New York for a premier and hook up with Chris. If you're interested, let me know and I'll make sure to write it! :)
> 
> Title from Cobra Starship's '#1nite'.


End file.
